


Lament

by lpmc94



Series: Jace's Adventures [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lpmc94/pseuds/lpmc94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right after the Breach erupts, Jace must attend a funeral for a fallen Divine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lament

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place right after my other fic, It Begins. You don't have to read it, but you would have a bit more context for this one if you have read the other one.

    It was a dark day within the hallowed walls of Val Royeaux. Rain constantly fell, the sky a dark, depressing grey. Jace stood before the tall glass windows, lost within dark thoughts as he gazed out onto the mourning city. He still could not rid his mind of the desperate screams of friends and allies as they were forever trapped in lyrium. The sky tearing apart, demons pouring out, this accursed mark. It was all too much. Jace was going to fly apart.

    The sound of the door opening broke Jace’s reflective reverie, only for it to reveal a downcast Cassandra. She wore her best black ceremonial armor, marked by golden tassels that formed the Seeker’s Eye on her chest. Cassandra also wore a dark cloak to complete her outfit.   

     The woman’s voice was quiet. “It is time. Please come with me.”

    Jace turned to her, and gave her an understanding glance. He sighed, and donned his own black cloak, emblazoned with the golden seal of the Circle. The man also wore a silver circlet atop his short and chestnut hair to compliment his black and silver Enchanter’s robes. The outfit had been Leliana’s idea and Jace hadn’t been in the mood to argue. He had a funeral to attend.  
————————————————————————————————

    Reverently, they processed through the rain, all lost within thought, within in memory. Thousands of Orlesians watched the procession, some from windows, many standing in silently in the streets, all dressed in sable attire. Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine, led a Seeker contingent that preceded Justinia’s casket. A black pall covered the beautifully wrought piece. Emblazoned in golden stitching was Justinia’s favorite aspect of the Prophetess — Andraste of the Flame, the embodiment of sacrifice. It had been chosen by both Cassandra and Leliana, as a testament to Justinia’s constant sacrifices to bridge the gap between the Chantry and the common folk. It was also a defiant statement to those more conservative members of the Chantry.

    Justinia’s death had left more progressive Grand Clerics within the minority. As a result, many of the elder, conservative members had chosen to do nothing in response to the Breach. No matter how much shouting Cassandra did, the Chantry refused to listen to her. While the Inquisition had been begun by Justinia, the Chantry was now quite stubborn in supporting them with resources. But Cassandra pushed these thoughts from her mind. She had a friend to mourn. And now the bitter rain seemed to only mock her loss.

    Following the casket was a walking group of Grand Clerics. They swung magically sealed bowels of incense that continued to burn despite the rain. Their sickly sweet smell filled the streets of Val Royeaux as they progressed to the Cathedral. Just behind this group walked Jace and Leliana. Since they had returned to Val Royeaux, Leliana had been shadowing the new leader of the Inquisition, keeping the more wily Chantry leaders away from him. She wore a beautiful black dress that also featured a Seeker’s eye upon the fabric. It was covered by a beautiful red and black cloak that kept away the worst of the rain. Her blue eyes were haunted and withdrawn, and who could blame her? The world she had loved was falling apart, and the one person she trusted most was forever lost to the darkness.

    The enormous train of mourning people reached the steps of the Grand Cathedral and came to a halt. The Seekers stood at attention on both sides of the steps as Justinia’s casket was carried through the great doors. The many nobles already within rose and stood in silence as the Divine was carried past. Empress Celene, newly returned to Val Royeaux, was clad in an expensive silk black gown, her blonde hair curiously unadorned. She wore a great gem at the nape of her throat, a large black diamond, one of Orlais’ crown jewels. Beside the Empress stood her champion, an enormous man decked within the colors of House Valmont. For this one occasion, the nobles of the Orlesian Empire forewent the wearing of their masks. Out of respect for the deceased divine, tradition was broken and an exception was made.

    As the casket reached the altar, a choir began to sing. An unearthly melody arose from the throats of the several sisters and brothers that comprised the choir. It struck a chord deep within Jace’s soul and he was struck by a wave of sadness. Having left him at a corner pew, the man watched Leliana as she walked down the center aisle. As she went, the Left Hand of the Divine too raised her voice in song. Her perfect voice carried the melody wonderfully, easily surpassing her fellow choir members, Leliana’s voice echoed astoundingly through the Cathedral. She bowed to the altar as she neared, before joining Cassandra off to the side.

    The last group to enter the Cathedral was a small squadron of Templars, those who had remained loyal to Justinia. A beautiful baritone voice arose in song from the back of the Cathedral, causing Jace’s emerald eyes to turn in that direction. What he saw stunned him. A man dressed in a mix of Orlesian formal robes and Templar armor strode forward, lifting his voice in song. He wore a red fur cloak over his armor, emblazoned with a golden Sword of Mercy. His hair was spun from curling threads of finest gold. He had eyes of dawn, amber stones that flared brightly from the golden light reflected throughout the Cathedral. His name was Knight Commander Cullen, and Jace knew him intimately well…  
____________________________

 _Lips met in a frantic clash. Harsh breath sounded within the hidden alcove, the heat given off by their bodies causing sweat to drip incessantly. Eyes of bright emerald met a beautiful pair of dawn colored eyes. Hard, muscled bodies ground against one another, both men attempting to reach satisfaction before they were discovered this night. The added element of danger made their arousal and need even more potent than before. As they reached completion, both men let loose a sigh of satisfaction. They quietly lay down on Knight-Captain’s bed, and lost themselves in a world made for two._  
____________________________

That had been a long time ago. Life had changed them both irreparably. Cullen had watched Kirkwall burn, and Jace watched as his life had been ripped away from him. Bringing himself back to the Cathedral, Jace listened as Cullen joined Leliana’s song. The Knight Commander’s voice was a strong baritone, deep, yet surprisingly melodic. Leliana matched him as Cullen sang, creating an unearthly harmony that sent shivers down Jace’s spine. It echoed throughout the Cathedral, and Jace was shocked at its beauty. The pair had taken the song, the lament, and transformed it into something not of this world. And somehow, Jace knew deep within his soul that he would never witness the likes of this song ever again. As the lament came to a close, Jace realized that tears were running down his face unchecked.

    A Grand Cleric came behind the altar and faced the crowds of Orlais. The woman had placed before a large book, emblazoned with a red sun on its cover. She opened the voluminous tome and read, “A reading from the Book of Trials and the Book of Transfigurations. _Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”_  
 _“For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword_ …”  
________________________________

    Cassandra stormed towards her quarters, utterly irate and muttering curses under her breath. Needless to say, the remaining Grand Clerics had not been helpful in support of the Inquisition. For all intents and purposes, the fledgeling group were on their own. And even worse, the Clerics were planning to place an extremely conservative member upon the Sunburst Throne, an act that would only hinder the Inquisition further. Having had enough, Cassandra left in a tempestuous fury, leaving Leliana to deal with the women.

    The Seeker reached her chambers, slamming the large door shut behind her. And with that, her anger dissipated like a wisp of smoke. She went to a far cabinet and took out a silver glass and a bottle of wine. It had been a special bottle given to her by Justinia years ago. After pouring herself a glass, Cassandra slumped into a chair in front of her fireplace, utterly drained. With the warm fire lit before her, she looked at the mantle above the fireplace. A recent portrait of Justinia stared down at her. The woman had been painted in the Divine’s gardens, which overlooked the city of Val Royeaux. She sat on a bench, looking to the great city before her. A beam of sunlight shone down on her, bathing the Divine in golden light. And as Cassandra stared, tears unashamedly rolled down her cheeks. The former Right Hand of the Divine rose her glass in one final toast.

    “Goodbye, my friend.”


End file.
